


End of the Line

by whiskeydicks



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, implied PTSD, implied veteran!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:35:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeydicks/pseuds/whiskeydicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky likes routines. </p><p>Routines are safe. Routines keep the memories under the surface. Routines keep the demons at bay. </p><p>Bucky feels like he could live without a routine if he could just listen to that voice for the rest of his life. That voice sounds like an anchor to Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Line

Bucky likes routines.

Routines are safe. Routines keep the memories under the surface. Routines the demons at bay.

His morning routine begins every day when he wakes at precisely 4:30am. He gets up, goes for a run, takes a shower, brushes his teeth, eats his toast while the coffee brews. He pours the entirety of the coffee pot into an oversized to-go mug, gets dressed while it cools to an acceptable temperature of just below burning lava, puts the lid on, grabs his keys and wallet, and heads to work.

He always thinks its ironic that he takes the bus to work.

After punching in and grabbing the keys, he heads to his own bus. He starts up the big vehicle, takes a sip of coffee before backing out of the terminal, one last moment to steel himself for the day, then he starts his routine for the day.

He drives the bus through his route over and over throughout the day, picking people up and dropping them back off. Business men and women, single parents collecting kids and running errands, children to and from school, the homeless that are looking to rest their feet for a little while. He takes pride in getting them all to their destinations on time and safely. He’s one of the safest and smoothest drivers on the fleet. He won’t ever let anyone else get hurt because of him. He can’t.

He takes the bus back to the terminal. He goes for another run. He repeats the routine of the morning, except in reverse. He watches the news for an hour. He watches the documentary channel for another hour. He goes to bed only to wake up and repeat his routine the next day.

*

His routine changes first when he gets assigned a new shift due to recent layoffs. Instead of driving the day shift, he’ll be driving the swing shift from now on. Instead of getting business men and women to their meetings on time, he’ll be taking them home after a hard day’s work. Instead of the school crowd chattering happily away in the back, he’ll hear the quiet snores of college students working too hard with too little resources. Instead of single parents picking up their children, he’ll be taking those same parents to their second jobs working the night shift just to make ends meet.

Bucky adjusts quickly to the new routine. If he didn’t, he would break. So he wakes up a few hours later and eats dinner instead of lunch on his break. It takes a few weeks for him to feel the safety that comes from a routine again, but he only has a few nightmares in the in between this time.

****  
  


*

His routine changes again when he starts to notice the skinny guy he picks up about two hours before he clocks out. The poor guy looks bone tired, holding both a briefcase and a messenger bag that look stuffed to the brim with documents. He barely fills out his blazer and his khaki pants, even though they look like they’re in the smallest size available. He notices the guy because the bus isn’t very crowded at this time of night, yet he still offers his seat to the little babushka that totters down the aisle. Seeing apparently no available seats (although a quick scan tells Bucky that plenty of seats are open if skinny guy had just asked some people to move their bags), he comes near the front to grasp onto a pole and rides out the rest of his journey like that. Bucky keeps an eye on him out of the corner of his eye, afraid that the little guy will either collapse under the combined weight of his work bags or lose his fragile grip on the pole when they round a corner. He’s apparently stronger than Bucky gave him credit for because he survives the entire bus ride to his stop. Jostling himself into alertness, the nice skinny guy mutters a soft thank you to Bucky and walks out into the night.

Bucky thinks about what a nice voice the skinny guy had, before pulling away from the curb and burying all thoughts of nice voices and kind eyes.

*

Skinny guy is on the bus every day after that, even on weekends, and Bucky begins to wonder how long he had been driving this man around before he noticed him. He always has the same, tired look on his face every night he gets on. But more often than not, his eyes are bright and alert while he draws in his sketchbook or reads on his tablet. He almost slips from Bucky’s radar again until a week after noticing him for the first time, he watches as skinny guy helps gather rolling oranges that had fallen from a pregnant lady’s split shopping bag. Its almost comical to see him scrambling around trying to catch oranges in a moving bus. Bucky smiles for the first time in months at the sight in his rearview mirror.

The smile becomes part of his routine. As time goes on, Bucky starts to notice more and more about the skinny guy. He only draws with graphite pencils, no mechanical ones, and never pens. He doesn’t appear to have an iPod, but occasionally hums or taps his foot to a song only heard by him because its definitely not to the beat of Katy Perry coming through the speakers. He’s obscenely nice, nicer than anyone else Bucky has ever encountered. Even that guy Sam who works at the VA isn’t as nice as the skinny guy, which is saying something. He works a lot, even the weekends, for what Bucky assumes to be some medical research company. He may have gotten a quick peek at the papers the skinny guy was holding one night only to be utterly confused by the intricate drawings of muscles and words that looked like chemicals.

While observing the skinny guy was becoming a regular part of his routine, Bucky could only make these observations at stops when he doesn’t need to have his eyes on the road. At first, quick glances at the skinny guy in an ever emptying bus were enough. But soon, Bucky finds himself wishing he could stop his routine and sit next to skinny guy and learn more about him. Why he was so nice to everyone. What careful sketches was he making during the bumpy bus ride. Why is it that he works so much and so late. If he was happy. If he could show Bucky how to be happy again.

One night, Bucky learns something new about skinny guy completely by accident.

They’re close to skinny guy’s stop, only a few blocks away. He’s standing up near the front again, sketching, having given his seat up to an elderly man not five minutes into his commute. Bucky watches out of the corner of his eye while the skinny guy shifts, holding the sketchbook and pencil in one hand and digging into his pocket with the other.

“Steve Rogers,” skinny guy answers into the phone with a much deeper and stronger voice than Bucky had been expecting, thinking back to that first night. _Maybe his voice is softer when he’s tired._

Skinn-no, Steve nods his head and makes a few sounds of agreement before talking to the speaker in direct, firm sentences. Bucky is glad he’s stopped at a light for the moment because that voice is touching him somewhere deep inside. Bucky feels like he could live without a routine if he could just listen to that voice for the rest of his life. That voice sounds like an anchor to Bucky.

Steve hangs up and sighs softly before putting his phone back in his pocket. He also tucks his sketchbook away because Bucky is slowly pulling up to the curb of his stop. While Bucky is leaning over to open the doors, he hears Steve say something. A second later he realizes that that that something was directed at him.

“What?” he says gruffly. He’s not used to using his voice during the day except to tell people that their transfers are expired.

“I said sorry for the phone call. I realize its impolite, but it was very important,” Steve says a bit sheepishly.

Bucky realizes that not only is the kindest, most wonderful man speaking to him, but he’s apologizing. For a phone call. On a public bus.

“I know I hate it when people talk on the phone when I drive and you always look so concentrated on the road. I just wanted to apologize if I distracted you at all.”

Bucky can only stare at him. He’s in shock. No one had ever been this considerate towards him in a long time, not since he came back. His face must not show the emotions currently rolling around inside him because Steve waits for another few seconds before mumbling another apology and walking out of the bus. Bucky realizes that he’s already stayed at this stop too long and he will be a few minutes off for the rest of the night, so he puts the bus back into gear, checks his mirrors, and continues his routine.

With the reliability of the sun, Steve is on the bus the next evening. He sits in the back of the bus for most of the journey and Bucky has the paranoid thought that Steve is avoiding him for the silent treatment he pulled last night. But then a woman and her small son come on and Steve offers them his seat and stands so she can put her shopping bags down on the seat next to her. Instead of remaining by the pole in the back, Steven comes up to stand near Bucky like he usually does. A few minutes pass before Bucky finally works up the courage to speak.

“Thank you,” he blurts out.

Steve looks up from his reading and there’s a small smile on his face that Bucky can see reflected in the big front windshield.

“You’re welcome. Although I’m not sure what for,” Steve says, acting like Bucky hadn’t acted like a total spaz when they last spoke.

“Thank you for apologizing. Even though it wasn’t a big deal. For being so goddamn nice. Just for being…” Bucky trails off, not sure what else he can thank him for out loud. He’s been alone for so long that he’s not sure how to deal with other people properly yet. But he’s willing to try if it means Steve will talk to him.

Then Steve laughs and Bucky almost swerves.

“I was just doing what anyone else would have done.”

“No you weren’t. You were being better than everyone else.”

Steve hums as if he wants to disagree with Bucky, to defend the goodness of humanity, but whatever he sees from his limited view of Bucky’s face deters him.

“So I’ve been riding this bus for months and I don’t even know the name of the man who has my life in his hands,” Steven says with a smile, again.

“Bucky.”

“Bucky. Nice name. I’m Steve.” It sounds like he takes a big breath before asking, “So Bucky, do you like driving a bus?”

And so begin their nightly conversations. Steve talking animatedly about anything and everything and waiting patiently for Bucky to give his stilted answers. What he said must intrigue Steve enough because he keeps talking to Bucky, even argues some points with him. It turns out that they shared many of the same views on politics and strongly agree for a need for reform. But while Steve’s desire for change always comes from a pure belief in the goodness of mankind, Bucky’s comes from a darker place. He changes the subject so as not to spark a memory. He thinks Steve notices, but since he doesn’t say anything, Bucky can’t be sure.

*

It comes up one night a few months into their...friendship is the closest word Bucky can come up with, but he’s not entirely sure if that’s the right word. Its been so long since he’s had one, he’s not quite sure what constitutes two strangers as friends. But talking to Steve is like taking a full breath after a long time struggling on the surface of the ocean, not quite remembering what clean air feels like. He can’t stop talking to Steve, can’t stop telling him things. Because if he tells Steve things about himself, Steve tells Bucky things about himself in return. And Bucky wants to know the things about Steve. So it comes up unexpectedly one night, to Bucky at least.

“I don’t really like driving at night.”

Steve looks up from his sketchbook. After the first few conversations, Steve had politely asked if he could sketch while they talked. Bucky had let out a small laugh and said ‘of course’ as if he could ever deny something that brought Steve happiness.

“But half of your route is at night. Have you talked to your supervisor about changing back to your day shift?” Steve asks, full of concern as always.

Bucky takes a moment to respond. While he has told Steve more than he’s told anyone, there are still things he keeps hidden from him. Things he keeps hidden from himself even. How he can’t ever be in complete darkness because it reminds him of those nights of utter blackness only to be broken by fiery explosions and foul smells. How he can’t talk to his manager about this because it will show that Bucky is still broken inside and can’t properly be a part of the world he fought so hard to protect. How he’s afraid of talking to anyone about it because if he does, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop remembering or if he’ll just swept up in the tide and lose himself to it. He’s lost so much already, he can’t lose himself.

“Is it because of what happened?” Steve asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward slightly so that only Bucky can hear him. “Over there?”

Bucky stiffens. How would Steve know about that? Bucky is always so careful. What if Steve finds out he’s too broken to fix and doesn’t want to talk to him anymore? Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle that.

The alarm must have shown on his face because Steve is quick to say “Its just that I know Sam Wilson. He works at the VA Community Center downtown. I mentioned you and he said that he sees you around there sometimes. I just wanted you to know that I knew. So you wouldn’t have to hide it like you normally do.”

_Steve knows. He’s known for some time and still talks to me. He hasn’t given up on me._

Bucky is quiet for a little longer before responding, finally.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t like driving at night because of that. I’m not so good with the dark. Because of what happened.”

Steve relaxes for a bit, opens his sketchbook up to a new page.

“Well that’s okay. We all have our demons. I’ve learned that the important thing is to not let them rule you.”

Bucky wonders what sort of demons Steve has battled. He seems too angelic to be dealing with dark thoughts.Then he remembers back to the pills Steve took a few weeks back, out of one of those weekly pill containers, the rest of the week still full. And the reason Steve is on the bus every day. And the medical papers, enough to fill two bags. And Bucky suddenly feels the need to protect Steve. To help him in whatever way possible.

“You know you can always talk to me too. About that stuff,” is Bucky’s eloquent response. Steve only smiles wider and looks up through his bangs at the windshield where both of their faces are reflected back. Bucky thinks their smiling faces look good together.

*

“Steve, this is your stop.”

“Oh I know,” Steve replies without making a move to get off the bus. “But I’m not ready to get off yet. We’re right in the middle of a really good conversation and I need to know your opinion on the current state of Nicki Minaj’s career,” he says in all seriousness. With a completely straight face. Bucky is a little impressed. “And besides, I wasn’t able to work out today so a few extra stops will make up for that.”

Bucky actually turns a little to look Steve up and down and gives him a pointed look, raising one eyebrow. He’s fairly positive that Steve has never worked out a day in his life. All the same, he closes the doors.

“I honestly don’t know how you even like Nicki Minaj over Lady Gaga. Gaga is ironic, on purpose. Nicki Minaj is just a lot of ass and really fast talking. Gaga brings to light some important issues in a way that you don’t even realize you’re thinking about these issues until its too late. Its genius!”

“See that’s what I don’t like. Dont’ try and trick people into thinking about these issues, even if they’re important. Its always better to be upfront about it rather than sneak it into catchy lyrics and synthesized melodies.”

“I see your point, but…”

They continue discussing the finer points of pop music and rapping for a few more stops until Bucky threatens to forcibly remove Steve from the bus. Steve chuckles as he leaves and tells Bucky to text him once he’s gotten home safely. They had exchanged numbers after Bucky’s unexpected confession of his fears so Steve could always make sure Bucky had someone to talk to if the memories got too much. It had only happened once, but hearing Steve’s voice through his rarely used phone that night had calmed him down better than any amount of liquor ever had.

*

“Steve, we’re at least eight stops from your house. You need to get off now or else it’ll be too far for you to walk back.” Bucky was starting to get worried. Steve had been staying on the bus longer and longer in the past weeks. But this was too far. Bucky thought about the pills and the inhaler Steve kept in his bag and how Bucky wouldn’t be there to protect him on the long walk back.

“You said that a bus run from the terminal back along this route after you get off right?”

“Well yeah…”

“Then I’m okay. I’ll just take that back. I don’t work particularly early, so don’t worry about my sleep schedule like I know you are,” Steve said with a small smile, mock-scolding Bucky with a little finger wag.

The confusion must have shown on Bucky’s face.

“Buck, you said you don’t like driving at night. Most of your route is at night. So I’m going to keep your company until your route is finished.” Steve pauses for a minute before stepping over the line that passengers are not supposed to step over to place a soft hand on Bucky’s shoulder, leaning in close. “I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Steve takes his hand off Bucky’s shoulder and steps back to his usual spot, looking down. But when Bucky stops at a stop sign and shoots a quick look back at him, his face is as red as Bucky’s. Steve glances up and they lock eyes and share a small smile before Bucky looks ahead again and crosses the intersection. He wasn’t sure until he had looked back at Steve, but now he’s sure. Steve meant more than just the end of the bus route. He meant much longer than that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the characterization was okay in this! Sorry I don't know much about PTSD, so I tried to keep it very vague so as not to trigger or offend anyone. 
> 
> Basically, Steve is Bucky's sun. Either romantically or platonically.


End file.
